


Hello, Sunday

by griners



Category: Football RPF
Genre: I cry a lot, M/M, don't mind me, just rolling on the ground
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 09:51:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3645858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/griners/pseuds/griners
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Maybe we could kiss again. Imagine how much the fans would love that.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hello, Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> I cried like a baby all throughout the game and this just happened.

**The Beggining**

“Hi ugh- hello. Hum. My name, my- it is Xabi Alonso. Very pleased to meet you.”

Steven thinks: _No beard. Nervous smile. New. Newbie. No experience. Not worth it. You don’t feel_.

“Welcome. Your things are in your locker.” and “Prove your worth, will you?” and gone.

Jamie follows him out- “Sorry, you just caught him in a bad day” and he’s gone too, and Xabi is very confused, and not so pleased to meet Steven Gerrard. Maybe tomorrow.

.

“You’re good.” Wide eyes, heavy breath, a hand helping him up off the ground.

“I know,” childlike voice, childlike smile, still so innocent “But I will be more good. Hum. Better. Yes.”

Steven turns his palm and shakes his hand, and Xabi shakes it back. It’s three seconds before they let go, one second too long, hearts racing, minds running, smiles breaking.

.

“The new guy,” Jamie whistles lowly and Steven smiles. “You are going to hit it off brilliantly! This is gonna be the year!”

Steven is smiling, but he’s ever the cloud in everybody’s sky- “We’ll see.”

Jamie only laughs, but not like he disagrees. Steven frowns and Jamie winks, says “See what? You staring at that ass more often?”

Steven’s boxers are thrown at his face, and Jamie doesn’t stop laughing.

.

They lose.

Steven thinks: _Again. God fuck- again. Fuck. Fuck._

Xabi is staring at his knees and Steven is so easily annoyed after a loss. “Move, Alonso-“ grumbled out and angry, so angry.

Xabi looks up and the words he speaks are not only foreign and rolled around in his tongue but lifeless, too. “We lost.”

Steven looks at him, eyes locked, a beat. Maybe he understands.

.

**The Middle**

“Playing is exhausting. Football is exhausting. I’m exhausted.”

“I thought you passed all your medical exams,” Steven mumbles, the paper on one hand and coffee on the other. He smiles because he knows and Xabi smiles too, but he needs words.

“I could never think to feel this much. Liverpool, is. Is great. Makes me feel-“

“Victorious?” Steven interrupts. “Even when we lose? Yeah. I know.”

Xabi’s smile is bigger now and he fiddles with his hands, and Steven is stepping into dangerous territory. “I have never felt anything like it.”

They look at each other (it’s a habit). Xabi is going to speak and Steven is going to stop him when there is a knock on the door, and they’re. Disappointed. Relieved. Both.

( _Never? Almost._ )

.

“Hey. What do you think of honesty?”

Steven is startled. They’re the only ones left in the locker room. He breathes. “Support it. 100% mate.”

“Hm,” Xabi nods. “Chelsea rumors?”

“Fake.” Steven bites out.

“Manchester?”

“Absolute joke.”

“Madrid?”

Steven pauses. Xabi’s got him. “I don’t know.”

“I am from Spain.” (Why didn’t you come to me?)

Steven sighs and refuses to look at him. He shuts his locker and- “Yes. Nothing is decided.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“No.”

“Why?” no anger, baffled. Maybe hurt.

Steven thinks: _Don’t do this_.

“Would you have told me?”

Xabi smirks. He’s confident now, despite still needing Google Translate and a bit of help in the grocery store. “I would.” The door is behind him and he crosses it, and, in the silence, he says (yells, no sound makes everything painful) “They offered me a place, too.”

( _This was never about you. Never? Almost._ )

.

Steven steals his notebook.

“What the fuck?”

“Get up-“ Steven growls, and Xabi doesn’t. He hoists him up and his back hits the wall like thunder and Xabi is back to calm, and Steven is fuming, livid, Steven is- “You’re going.”

“You’re not.”

“Genius.” He barks. “Honesty my ass.”

Xabi tilts his head. He smiles. “You’re hurt.”

“You’re happy.”

“You haven’t kissed me yet.”

Steven is angrier- “I won’t at all.”

Xabi nods like he doesn’t believe him. He kisses him until Xabi is more bruised on the inside than out, and- “I’m sorry. Steven. I’m sorry.”

Steven thinks: _Fuck. You. Fuck you. (You needed me to break you)_

( _I will never forget you. Never? Almost._ )

.

**The End**

“Charity match, uh?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure?”

Steven sighs. “Yeah.”

“Maybe we could kiss again. Imagine how much the fans would love that.”

Steven laughs like he hasn’t in days. Xabi simply smiles.

.

They’re on the bus. Texting.

_I thought Bayern had insisted_

_Why would they_

_You told me so_

_I did._

_You lied._

_I did. Surprised you didn’t ask them yourself_

_I don’t keep tracks of things since you left._

A pause.

_Is that why our story stopped?_

_No. On hold, mate._

( _We will never be the same. Never? Almost._ )

.

(“We have 5 minutes before the match starts.”

“Good,” Steven drags Xabi into the locker room. He says- “There. That’s where I kissed you when you left. You’re gonna change there, and no place else.”

“Trying to make me hurt?”

Steven bumps shoulders with him. They laugh. It’s old news. And new, too. “We’ve always been about that. Never been anything else.”

“Never?” Xabi raises an eyebrow, his lips a tight line.

“Almost never.” Steven says. Xabi takes it.)

.

Thrumming blood. Pumping veins. Xabi is catching the bus back to the airport, but-

“You have a thing for leaving, don’t you?”

Xabi turns back, for the sake of it. “You’ve done great work here.”

Steven looks away. “Yeah. Yeah.”

“Would it hurt too much if I said I always-“

“Yes.”

“You don’t know what I was gonna say.”

“I know what you weren’t gonna say.”

“Steven.” Xabi is so, so- “I asked to come. I asked to be here. With them. With- ( _you_ )” he stops. “Goodbye.”


End file.
